


Gravity of Love

by Chantress



Series: Triptych [2]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Introspection, Multi, No Dialogue, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 03:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10428345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/pseuds/Chantress
Summary: A more poetic man might look at Han's lovers and describe their beauty in terms of contrasts: light and dark, sun and moon. But what grips at his heart is their similarities.





	

Han's biased, and doesn't mind admitting it, but he'd still be willing to bet every credit he's ever earned, swindled, or stolen that Leia's breasts are the nicest in the galaxy. Round, plump, just the right size to fill the curve of his palm with nothing left over, with nipples made to be sucked and kissed and nibbled all day long--or at least until she fists her hands into his hair and demands he pay attention to other parts of her, too.  
  
Or sometimes it's Luke who pulls him away--never as stridently as Leia, but with an identical hunger in his eyes. And that's no hardship at all, because if Leia has the nicest breasts in the galaxy, then Luke has the nicest cock, and there are probably a bunch of moldy old dead Jedi somewhere tut-tutting over the kid's blatant misuse of his Force training, but Han can't bring himself to care because it means that when Luke fucks him, he can hold off both their orgasms for _hours_ , drawing out the pleasure by slow increments until Han's a sweaty, begging, incoherent puddle of ecstasy beneath him.  
  
Or sometimes Luke and Leia pass Han between them like a sweet, savoring every inch of him with languid licks and caresses, trading suggestions for how best to make him moan and whimper as casually as they trade kisses with one another. They've made love practically on top of him more than once in the course of these games, leaving Han all but forgotten in their need for each other, but there's so much tenderness in it that Han can't be offended. He holds them instead, making a safe place for their loving, helps fold Leia's legs back towards her chest in the angle that he knows brings her the most pleasure, whispers encouragement when the rhythm of Luke's hips stutters, smooths sticky hair out of their faces as they cling together through the last of the aftershocks.  
  
A more poetic man might look at Han's lovers and describe their beauty in terms of contrasts: light and dark, sun and moon. But what grips at his heart is their similarities.  
  
Yes, Luke is the sun, all golden beauty and bright smiles and warmth, tempered somewhat yet undimmed by the things he's endured--that they've all endured--since the beginning of their acquaintance. His love scorches and nurtures by turns, yet it remains constant, giving form to the highs and lows of their days with its presence.  
  
Leia, though... Leia is no moon. She can be chilly, it's true, but this is a facade for those who don't know her, an illusion caused by distance. Close up, her passion is even hotter than that of Luke's sun: a blue star blazing defiance into the indifferent chill of space. To embrace her is to take one's life in one's hands, to risk being reduced to ashes for a taste of her beauty. Yet hers is also the energy that binds the three of them together, the brash and stubborn love that burns tirelessly through all obstacles in their path.  
  
And Han? Han is the wandering planet that's found itself inadvertently drawn into their orbit, circling them in their eternal dance around each other.  
  
He wonders: if he weren't there, would they collapse in on one another, destroying themselves in a last glorious explosion? Or would their light flicker and go out, cold and bereft without a satellite to steady them? Or would they burn on forever, oblivious to the petty cares of the rest of the universe, each seeing only the other's flame?  
  
Han has no answers. But then, with his head pillowed on the galaxy's nicest breasts, and the galaxy's nicest cock slowly softening inside him, he thinks that maybe answers are overrated anyway.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Gravity of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13101486) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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